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Minah Saden

Keldabe City // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector




"An astute observation," Minah said coolly. "Though of course I consider myself a modest servant of the Empire." The potent air of haughtiness that hangs on those words suggest otherwise as she quietly looked over this general from over the rim of her glass. He seemed warily cautious, as he should be. Definitely not one of Grievous' zealots to find himself here.

"A servant who admittedly gets tired of the state functions after a while," she admitted after a generous sip of her drink. "And as a diplomat, cultivating personal relationships, even with our...opponents, is always part of my duties." For a moment, her gaze flits down to the lightsaber revealed on her hip, and she smiles a little wider, not bothering to hide the clear symbol of her allegiance.

"Minah Saden," the diplomat announced with a nod and a gesture of her glass. "And you?"
Minah Saden

Keldabe City // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector


"Yes, it is quite a view, isn't it?"

Minah Saden almost seemed to emerge from the shadows onto the balcony overlooking the city, a half-full glass of an unknown liquor swirling around in her offhand. Not one to let a chance to flaunt a little go to waste, she'd dressed to the nines for this little excursion of hers, wearing jewelry on her ear as well as her Imperial formal dress, silver and white to contrast the red and black cloak and armor plating shared with her usual Guardian armor. Compared to Kzaye keeping a low profile, Minah was all but shouting what colors she wore today.

While Kzaye was considering her, she paused to look over one of the bodyguards with a puzzling expression, before brushing a bit of dust off the guard's coat where armor was hidden and moving next to the general. "And to think these cities were built from necessity, when their wars made their home planet uninhabitable. Perhaps we do not give the Mandalorians enough credit outside of their skills with the gun..." Her eyes flitted over to the far end of the Cantina, where an inconspicuous twi'lek met her gaze and returned to the datapad she was reading. "So what brings you to this splendid view, then?" she continued, sipping from the glass, "You and your entourage are curiously subtle to be out in such revelry."

Leaning against the balcony, her cloak billows out in such a way that a sharp eye could catch the handle of a lightsaber hanging on the back of her belt.
@Theyra
Minah Saden




Diertinont System...
Flonheim Royal Palace...
14 days prior...


The amber halls of the palace echoed with the raucous shouts and cheers of soldiers as they tore down the blue banners adorning the walls, making way for the gold and white that should have always hung here. Duke Emicho smiled, stroking the length of his thin mustache as he pondered how best to execute his brother when there was a commotion and the doors slammed open, two of his men pulling a shrieking young man in elegant blue finery by his wrists. A nephew, perhaps, one that could be sold to the markets instead of executed. Practicality eclipsed pity in his heart; he couldn't risk anyone else rising to challenge his claim. He glanced at the two men following his nephew and his captors; not his own soldiers, but men from the Empire, stoic and subdued, calmly marching behind them, ready for a fight. No, he couldn't risk it. Not with his new benefactors watching.

Moving through the grand hall as the soldiers looted and plundered for valuables, leading away prisoners in chains and taking for themselves anything seeming of value, Emicho decided to remove himself from the din and take the well-worn path to the council chambers, where the Empire's men stood watch, alongside the scarred transdoshan who came with them. Wretched thing. It ought to have been in a collar. As if it could read his thoughts, the reptile glared at him for a moment before resuming its post, allowing Emicho to slip by the guards and into the chamber, the heavy wooden door muting the chaos outside.

The throne and the table still stood where he remembered, now empty of his brother and the sycophants he surrounded himself with. He took a moment to rest a gloved hand on the arm of the grand throne, and a small smile curved his lips. All was finally right with the world. He'd reclaimed his destiny. Diertinont was his to rule again, and none would dare take his family's crown again.

"Such a curiosity."

Emicho turned sharply to the balcony on the far end of the room, where a tall, slender figure stood silhouetted against the evening sky. Her red and black cloak almost rendering her camouflaged, the duke almost flinched before he recognized it as his benefactor and smiled.

"The view is quite stunning when the sun comes up," Emicho said, casually strolling up behind her.

"Yet from where we are," the Imperial uttered, still staring out past the watch tower and the buildings, out towards the horizon. "You can't see the setting..."

Emicho rolled his eyes at another curious observation from this...Guardian, was it? Something like that, yes. He'd of course been certain that he could have overthrown his brother given enough time, but her arrival after being scorned by the previous ruler of Diertinont was both fortuitous and welcome all the same. Oh sure his allies all hemmed and hawed about the arrangement and how they'd be putting themselves under this "Emperor's" boot, but they didn't understand the game like he did. He'd paid lip service to a weak ruler before while doing as he pleased, he could do it to the trussed-up admiral who fancied himself a king. And if they were all like this preening sycophant, it would be all too easy.

"I'm surprised to still see you here," Emicho replied coolly after a moment to consider.

"And why would that be?" Minah Saden asked, finally turning to acknowledge him with a warm smile. "My job isn't quite finished here, after all."

"If you're talking about our, ah, arrangement, I can assure you-"

"Oh that's nothing to worry about," she said, stepping closer. "Your world is going to be a proper part of the Empire now, and I'm just making sure it all goes as smoothly as possible." She patted him on the arm. "After all those foul things your brother said about us, we wouldn't want the people to be up in arms about our presence."

"Anything to make the rabble happy, I suppose," the Duke sniffed, rubbing the spot on his arm as he looked out onto the courtyard, not filled with said rabble but battle scarred and occupied by his men, with a scattering of patrols of the more disciplined Troopers, stoic as ever but occasionally glancing up at the balcony where their master stood. He chuckled lightly to himself, before he heard a distinctive scream of the TIE fighters swooping overhead.

"Shame we didn’t have any of those," Emicho chuckled, watching them fly off into the distance. “A run or two would have sent my beloved brother-”

*THOOM*

Emicho gasped and threw up his arms as a blast of sound and air knocked him backwards, Minah remaining still as her cloak billowed out behind her. Blinking, the duke ran back to the balcony to see the mighty watchtower burning, billowing black smoke pouring into the air.

“What the blazes?” Emicho ran to the balcony where his soldiers stood dumbstruck. “Get over there and put that out, you idiots!” Before they could so much as pick up their rifles and run, there was a heaving sound of crumbling rock, and the tower began to fold under its own weight, crashing along the wall and sending up a great cloud of soot and dust. Shielding his eyes as the sound of the crash faded, he felt his heart skip a beat as he heard shouting in the distance.

“The devil is that?” he demanded as the noise grew louder.

“Sounds like the rabble.” Minah clucked her tongue as she scratched under her chin idly. “Dear me, and they don’t sound happy.”

The duke watched with mounting horror as over the walls poured dozens….no, hundreds of people, all moving in a great mass towards the palace, no symbol or flag uniting them, save for the unkempt rags of the slave and the peasant. The soldiers who rushed to save the tower were felled quickly, stabbed or sliced in a furious melee, picked off by the few blasters and rifles the mob had, or simply swallowed up by the teeming mass as it rushed towards the gates. His men that didn’t fall turned tail and ran for their lives, and the Imperials…wait…where were the Imperials? Where did they go?

“Bring around the fighters,” Emicho demanded, his voice shaking. “We can strafe them, the mob will break easily. Just…”

“We?” Minah tilted her head. “What makes you so sure there is a ‘we’ involved here?”

The duke’s blood ran cold as he looked back at the Guardian, the gears starting to turn in his head. When she turned to meet his gaze, Minah couldn’t help but grin. “Forgive me, but I just had to see the look on your face when you put it all together. It’s simply…” she waved a hand around to search for the word. “...gratifying.”

A thousand different emotions ran through Emicho’s head.”But…you said…”

“If it’s any consolation,” Minah continued, strolling from the balcony and patting him on the shoulder. “You were very helpful in getting rid of the other claimants to the throne, for however long it still exists.”

The duke’s temper began to rise as he stomped in after her. “But we had a deal! Why would you-?”

“Simple arithmetic, your highness. The more the Empire can offer, the more we get in return.” Her brow furrowed and her gaze darkened where he could not see. “And we can offer much more to those who you put in chains. More than an old crown and a tacky chair.”

The indignity. The betrayal. The impunity. Emicho felt his anger curdle. “You….you mangy whore! This is my kingdom! This is MY crown!” His hand shot towards the dagger at his hip. “If you think you’ll take it from me-”

Minah turned around, and the burning anger behind her eyes made him flinch. She stepped towards him, and he stepped back, his hands trembling. Baring a teeth back in a snarl, he felt for the dagger.

“Please. Do try it. Give me the excuse.”

His breath shortened as Minah took another step, towering over him, hands still folded behind her back, her gaze cutting deeper than any blade. Her words came in a harsh whisper.

“I have broken better men than you.”

What little resolve he had broke. Emicho’s hand went limp, and he slunk backwards, out towards the balcony. Minah’s expression changed on a dime back to her smirk. “A very smart move. That’s what made you such a pleasure to work with, after all!”

Broken and defeated, Emicho looked back at her with unbridled hatred. “So what are you here for then? To kill me?”

“Kill you? Goodness no, not with the Empire weeks away from a diplomatic summit with Mandalore and Corellia!” Minah laughed at the very suggestion as she turned to head towards the door. “I’m merely here to welcome Diertinont into the Imperial fold. Naturally I intended to have you in charge, but with how deeply unpopular you’ve been among your enslaved population, it seems you simply couldn’t keep a handle on power.” She turned to smile back at him one last time. “Fortunately my backup plan to arrange for your abdication and negotiate with the newly freed people of Diertinont is going well.”

Emicho did not look up from the floor as Minah smiled and prepared to leave. “So…that’s it?” he asked, his voice hoarse and tired. “You want my abdication?”

“Well, that point is moot sadly.” Minah turned away, a small gleam in her eye.

“Because I have no choice,” Emicho mumbled.

“No. Because the rebels got to you before I could.”

Minah made a small motion with her hand, like the brushing of a fly off her lapel, and the duke was violently forced backwards, the air knocked out of his lungs as he tumbled over the balcony and landed hard on the dirt below. Coughing violently, feeling the blood pooling in his mouth, he heard the mob flooding the courtyard go silent.

“It’s him!”

“It’s the Duke!”

“GET HIM!”


“TEAR HIM APART!”


Far above, Minah took a deep breath as she listened to the screaming fade away into the sound of the mob, before pushing the doors open.

“Poor man couldn’t take losing his throne,” Minah said curtly to her men standing guard. “He was just falling all over himself.”

“What a shame," the scarred trandoshan smirked. We’re done here, then?”

“Indeed, Vakar. Another victory for the Empire." Minah made a gesture and her escort formed up, the trandoshan Vakar walking casually alongside her. "The rebels should be cooperative, keep the peace until the administrators arrive,” sheordered the Imperial soldiers as she strode past them, regular troopers nodding and taking positions while the ones in full helmets joined her entourage alongside Vakar. “Bring my shuttle and prepare the Justicar for departure. We’re due to join the fleet headed for Mandalore.”

"So we're in the honor guard after all," Vakar commented, hoisting his E-11 onto his shoulder. "Great."

"I wouldn't fret," Minah replied, hearing the chanting of the free people through the walls as her group made their way to the shuttle bay. "I'm sure our mission there will be FAR more interesting..."
Edit: Done!

Hi there, was perusing threads and found this gem! Might hop in if I am allowed. ^_^
Zenobia Vartius

Lunatic

Good Times, Good Times (Part 1)




Both teams were quickly learning the downsides to inviting someone like Zenobia to a party like this one. It wasn't that she tended to live up to her nickname, though that was certainly an issue to some people. No, it was more that she tended to get...creative with her song choices when the karaoke mics came out, and with enough booze in her...

"You don't have to beeeee rich

To be maaaaaaah girl!

You don't GAHT TA be cool

To rule maaaaah world!

Ain't no particular shign

'more compatible with!

I just wantshur extra time and your-"


Zenobia ended her bout of screeching karaoke with a powerful spin on her heel that she was too drunk at this point to control, toppling right off the stage and crashing onto a table. Her vision swimming, she looked up and saw a shape that looked vaguely like a green asari and made a smooching sound before giving her finger guns.

"K-iiisss..."

As she felt herself graciously slipping into unconsciousness, she felt someone prodding her, trying to wake her.

"Zen, come on...come on.......come on.........."




"Come on, get your ass moving. Don't have all day."

Zenobia yelped as the cold metal was shoved against the small of her back, stumbling on her bad leg. The infirmary doctor managed a brief, sympathetic glance before he turned away, leaving Zenobia alone as she hobbled towards the door, bumping against the frame with her bad arm. The drugs weren't working. She could barely breath without feeling a stabbing pain in her chest, she shivered as a trickle of blood inched down her jaw from the deep gouge soaking the patch over her eye. No one said a word of course. This thing was the Cabal's problem now.

The short trip through the barracks turned agonizingly long as the biotic turian limped down the corridors, dead silent save for her ragged gasps and the sharp footsteps of the guard escorting her. Faces peered out from doors before vanishing as she passed them by. Fellow trainees Comrades. One lingered too long, and she recognized it as a friend, one she bonded with after they did well on an exercise together. A friendship he repaid by breaking her ribs. Her weak fingers clenched for a moment before she hung her head and pressed forward, trying not to look up again.

The cold stinging breeze was a small mercy, one quickly lost as she stumbled onto the tall grass, the transport shuttle looming ahead of her. With a start, she recognized it as the same vessel she had to load up just a few scant weeks earlier on disciplinary action. It was an ammunition hauler.

And just like that, it hit her like an avalanche. Just a few days ago, she was a promising young soldier, ready to come into her own, ready to finally prove herself and do great things for her people. For once in her life, she felt proud of herself, confident, maybe even a little happy for the first time since she left for the service.

And now, she was cargo. Property. No more valuable then a mediocre stockpile of heat clips. Tears mixed into the blood trickling down her face, as she bent over in a desperate, pained sob.

And then...a sharp pain. The blow of a rifle against her cheek, sending her reeling.

"Stop crying and get moving!" the guard barked at her as she smacked against a wall, leaning against it for support, her battered arms quivering. Her sobbing abruptly stopped, her heart suddenly beating against her chest like a distant artillery barrage, the pain amplifying her sudden burst of clarity.

"I said...!" he declared, raising his gun again. "Get-"

The shuttle pilot awoke with a start as an unearthly shriek came from outside the shuttle. Hopping up to investigate, he came down the ramp and saw the prisoner he was supposed to be taking straddling the guard and punching him repeatedly in the face, wailing with each brutal hit. Stumbling in shock, he reached for his sidearm and bumped against the side of the ship. Zenobia swung around like a whip, her face splattered with blood as her biotics pushed her to her feet again. With another resounding shriek, she leveled a crude blast of biotic energy that sent the pilot head over heels, giving her time to clamber on board the shuttle and hobble into the pilot's seat, dropping into it with a pained grunt as an alarm started blaring behind her.

"Shut the fuck up!" she snapped at the shrill noise as she struggled to get the ship started up with one bad arm and most of the fingers in her hand broken. "Lucky this isn't a fighter or I'd strafe you fuckers. Least you deserve, you and this whole fucking system." Continuing to mutter, she finally just slammed her fist into the controls, flinging blood across the viewscreen as the ship finally spooled up its engines. "Hell I'll come back with a proton bomb strapped to my ass and blow you fuckers to aaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAH!"

The shuttle had substantially more kick then she thought and it sped off like a lightning bolt, cleaving through a wall and clipping the comm tower alerting the mass relay to the escapee. Thrown back against her chair, she managed to pull up the control stick to avoid slamming into a nearby mountain and pitched up, up, up until the inky blackness of space overtook the dour blue sky. Flicking on the autopilot to take her to the relay, she leaned back in her chair, her heart still pounding ferociously in her chest. She caught a glance of her reflection in the window, looking like she had a disagreement with a meat grinder, the patch now soaked through and oozing onto her uniform. She tilted her head and scowled.

"Outstanding move," she murmured. "Made a bad situation worse. Dumbass."

Her reflection seemed to grin back. "You weren't going to go back home anyway. You know what happens to Cabal recruits."

Zenobia scoffed. "Yeah, and I know what happens to idiots who cold clock two people and bail with a stolen shuttle."

"Yeah, they get to live."

Turning to glare at her reflection, she spat out blood on the console. "And that's just going SO FUCKING WELL, isn't it?" Her breathing haggard and rough, Zenobia sat there for a good minute before she relaxed and slumped in the seat. "I didn't want this..."

"Don't kid yourself. You know why you spent your whole life hiding. You know what the Hierarchy does to people like you."

Snarling, Zenobia started to tear off the collar in chunks with her unbroken hand. "Didn't need to happen like this," she remarked coolly.

"But this is more fun."

Zenobia glared in shock at her reflection. Fun?! It was the most traumatic experience of her life! She'd never see her home again, forever branded an outlaw! She'd have to be some sort of lunatic to find this fun...

"Relay to shuttle, please state your destination."

The irritated voice of the mass relay station attendant shook her out of her head, and she grabbed for the controls. "Uhhh....Omega Relay?"

"Right, stand by."

Zenobia glanced down at her hands as the shuttle approached the relay, slowly dripping blood onto the console. And she couldn't help but smile, just a little bit...




Despite the request made by the announcer and her wormy companion, not all was well in the pre-game festivities. While most of the nomads were behaving themselves, it was difficult for a band of powerful individuals famous for fighting each other to not make enemies.

"You dare mock the gods so?!?" spat a girl in Greco-Roman armor. "Were this not a place of merriment I would slay you on the spot, loathesome rodent."

"Don't let the company stop you sweetheart," snarled a reedy looking anthro bat, getting up in her face. "Why don't you pull that sword out and see what happens?"

"What happens is you will lose your tongue, cretin!"

"Yeah well get ready to lose your eardrums, byzie-bitch!"

"Cur!"

"Twat!"

"...don't mind me, just trying to get to the carimañolas."

The two angry nomads were shoved back a little as a shorter figure deliberately squeezed between them to get to the table. The two seemed apoplectic until the unwanted intruder turned around.

"Gah, thought I'd never get out of that script reading..." the lanky fellow complained, brushing their wild red hair back and popping the appetizer into their mouth. "Mmm, that's good. Had to skip breakfast to make it in time."

The three of them stared at one another for a moment before the two arguing nomads suddenly started to bounce excitedly on their heels.

"Oh m-my gosh!" the greco-roman girl squealed.

"You're...you're...THEM!" the bat boy revealed excitedly.

Showing off a sharp-toothed grin, Skyler Belsky lowered their sunglasses, ran one finger across the edge, and snapped the same hand, producing an electrical spark. "Radiant Lancer, ready to roll."

The two fighters delighted jumping and squeeing at seeing Skyler perform their character's signature catchphrase drew quite a few eyes, and Skyler, having just done their good deed for the day, indulged a bit in the limelight. Admittedly the nomads were far less interested in them then their usual audience, but Skyler still managed to get a couple dozen selfies and signatures out, and was in fact in the process of signing one competitors head when their phone started chirping. Finishing off their fan session by vaulting over a table to get to the lounge area, snagging another carimañola on the way, Skyler flipped the phone out of their pocket with one equally dexterous move.

"Skyler here, what's shaking out?"

"My patience, Belsky."

"Sarki!" Skyler's eyes lit up as they righted themselves. "How's the great horned one doing today? Did we hear back from Feige yet?"

"Forget Feige, what the hell are you doing in Brazil?"

"Eating." Skyler took a bite from the carimañola. "How bout you?"

"You know what I mean! That damned tournament!" the she-demon yelled through the phone so violently it made Skyler wince. "SHINING is going to pitch a fit about this. You know they're debuting a new Justice Rider right?"

"Relax, I totally cleared it already. Besides, it's just what the new girl needs, a nice big popularity boost by going up against the favorite, right? It's not like I'm gonna curb stomp her right out the gate."

"Ugh...just don't do anything rash out there, okay? SHINING is going to have both our asses over a spit if you muck this up for them."

"Don't worry, it's just going to be a little publicity tour, then we can get back to arranging that movie deal. Besides, it's all just for show."

"I'll hold you to that."

"That's why you're my agent," Skyler recounted with a grin as they hung up. Nice girl. Honestly Skyler had no idea why she tolerated them so much, but whatevs. There was a tournament to fight, and on top of that one hell of a prize to win. Funny, Skyler didn't really consider that prize until now, but if everything they heard about it was true...well, it'd be one hell of a twist for ol' Radiant Lancer if they got their hands on that! Would make a hell of a movie deal to be sure, Skyler considered as they roamed around waiting to be noticed again.
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